A/N: I honestly don't know where this came from. It's a little bit of everything: love, sadness, despair, slash, het ... A thanks for the musical inspiration goes to Ronan Keating, John Secada and Stanfour. I own nothing and I don't make any money with this.

Mike had vowed to himself that he wouldn't cry. He was a man, he didn't cry. Kids cried, little girls cried when a boy called them names and women cried when they watched mushy romance movies like Titanic. But he was no kid, no little girl and no fucking woman, so he wouldn't cry. Crying was weak, it showed that he was hurt, that there was actually something that hurt him so much that the only thing he wanted to do at the moment was to curl into a tight ball and sob until he finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

But he was a man and men didn't cry. So he sat here at this club in the corner furthest away from the dance floor and got shitfaced from the cheapest vodka the place had to offer. Mike knew that he would have one hell of a hangover in the morning, but he didn't care. The only thing he wanted to do was to ease the pain, to forget what had happened. He wanted to no longer feel like someone had pierced his heart with a dagger that was sinking in even deeper with every breath he took.

The alcohol was already taking hold of him. With every gulp of the burning liquid his heart hurt a little bit less, his thoughts settled a little and the numbness took over more of his body. That was the only thing he wanted to feel at the moment, could feel without risking to break apart right here and now. Relief washed through him with every sip he took straight from the bottle, his hand still shaking around the bottle-neck.

"Mike, what are you doing? Are you out of your damn mind, kid?" the voice was sharp and whoever it was clearly was not happy with him drinking like he currently did. Too bad for the idiot that Mike wasn't gonna stop anytime soon. His grasp around the bottle tightened while he tried to discern who was talking to him – the dim light of the club combined with his lightly spinning head didn't help matters in the least.

When he finally managed to lift his head so he could look at the other man his gaze meet cerulean eyes that were gleaming with something akin to anger. Disapproval was written all over Chris' face while he looked down at his slumped down form, but Mike only looked straight back, taking another swig from the vodka-bottle in his hands.

It obviously was the wrong thing to do, because before he had lowered the nearly empty bottle entirely Chris had already snatched it out of his now clumsy hands. Blinking in confusion for an instant, Mike stared up at the older man who was now standing in front of him, bottle in one hand and the other impatiently scratching the wooden table that separated their bodies from touching.

"Give that back, idiot." he snarled, face turning into an ugly grimace, "It's none of ya business what I'm doin' here. Fuck off."

Chris eyed him coldly when he set the bottle on the table so that it was out of Mike's immediate reach, "It is my business if you're about to kill yourself from alcohol poisoning. Another one of those bottles and you'd be nothing but dead weight carried to the next hospital to get your stomach pumped."

Snorting, Mike didn't give an answer but instead lunged for his bottle of vodka, the marvelous stuff that could make him forget, even if only for one night. His movement however was slowed down from the alcohol he had consumed over the evening and the blonde man pushed him back in his seat hard before Mike's fingers even had the chance to close around the bottle-neck.

"No." strong hands shoved Mike deeper into the cushions of the black leather sofa and suddenly Chris was hovering above him, pinning his body down and blocking his way to the bottle that promised him sweet oblivion for tonight.

"Lemme go you damn bastard." fighting against the tight hold, Mike tried to punch the older man but Chris avoided his drunken fist easily. Howling in frustration he snapped at the blonde man's neck and nearly succeeded in biting him, his teeth leaving angry red marks on the others skin.

He just wanted his damn booze back! Mike simply wanted to get totally wasted to the point where he didn't even remember his own name. For this few hours he wanted to not remember and fall into a blissful dreamless sleep afterwards. He didn't demand too much, he just wanted people to leave him the fuck alone for this one night and let him drain his sorrow in cheap, nasty vodka. Was that really too much to ask for?

The moment his body went limp Chris loosened his death grip on Mike's arms, but he didn't care anymore. Tilting his head back against the leather of the couch he barely held back the sob that threatened to escape from his throat.

"What's going on, Mike?" hands were holding on to his shoulders again, but this time the touch was much more gentle. Chris sounded genuinely concerned, pitiful, and Mike really couldn't handle the thought of that.

"Just… just go away." he intended to sound harsh but instead Mike's voice wavered, his tone dangerously close to a broken whimper. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears but he held them back desperately – he wouldn't cry, he had vowed to himself that he wouldn't cry.

"Shh, everything's okay." warm hands started to gently stroke his upper arms and shoulders and Mike could feel the older man's worried gaze resting on him. It only made him want to cry even harder, his head spinning from the alcohol.

He felt miserable. That seemed to be Mike's word of the night, miserable. The feeling simply wouldn't go away and having Chris there talking to him like he needed consulting, needed someone to look out for him only made it more painful. He just couldn't bear it anymore, "No it's not okay! It isn't and it won't be!"

His outburst didn't ruffle Chris in the least, the blonde still trying to calm him down, cerulean eyes catching his gaze and holding it. When Mike tried to move his head away to avoid the piercing blue eyes one of the blonde's hands immediately snatched up and grabbed his chin, holding him in position. They stared at each other, Mike biting his lower lip in frustration and Chris looking down at him with concern in his eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong. I wanna know the reason why you tried to drink yourself into oblivion tonight."

Mike shook his head, "You don't understand… you wouldn't…"

It took all of his willpower to not simply break down into tears and burry his head into Chris' shoulder. A part of him really wanted to do just that, to snuggle against the other man's frame and forget his pain and his angst, hide from the world because he didn't know how to deal with it all.

"Try me." how those blue eyes could hold such warmth was beyond Mike. Chris simply stared at him now, the fingers of the hand that had held his chin before now stroking his jaw in a soft touch that Mike would have looked down at as girly any other time. In his current mental state however the simple touch was enough to finally break the dam.

"I… she…" a sob escaped his lips, Mike's vision blurry from the tears that were gathering in his eyes, "Nine months… nine damn months and that was all I was to her… I thought… I just… she just stood there and looked at me and it hurt… god it hurt so much…"

The tears were floating down his cheeks now, thick droplets of salty water wetting both their shirts. Only saying it hurt so goddamn much and thinking about it, going through the memory, felt like something inside him was dying again. How could it hurt so much? How could a few words deal that much damage to him, to his soul?

"Of course I love you Mike … I love you, but I am not in love with you." he mimiced, spiting the words out like venom.

His hands fisted in the older man's black T-shirt and he clenched his teeth at the memory. They had been together for the better part of a year and after all that this was all he, they, meant to her. She basically told him that he wasn't good enough, that she didn't love him - not like he loved her, not like he thought she loved him too. He was just the the sweet guy who bought her flowers and perfume, but not the one she wanted to come to and fuck in the dark of the night. The feeling of betrayal welled up inside him.

Chris looked at him with saddened blue eyes, "I understand Mike. It's okay."

Burrowing his head against the blonde man's shoulder, Mike shook his head furiously, tears still running down his cheeks. His arms were around Chris' neck, who in return held him close to chest, both arms wrapped tightly around his torso. "No, you don't … you don't know how much it hurt…"

"Trust me, I really understand." Chris whispered the words against his ear, his body suddenly tensing a little, "Because right now you're asking yourself what you did wrong, what it is that you don't have so that she left you, if you are not good enough... 'What is my flaw? Why didn't she love me as much as I loved her?' I know these thoughts."

Brining them face to face the blonde man brushed some of Mike's tears away with his thumb, giving him a sad half-smile. Cerulean eyes locked with icy blue ones as he continued to speak, "At some point I was there in your place Mike, I know how it feels to basically be told that you are good but simply not good enough, how much it hurts, how the words seem to pierce right through your heart…even if you don't believe it, it happened to me too, and to a lot of other people..."

Sighing, the blonde man run a hand through his hair, "I idolized the person; he was my mentor, my friend, my confident, my hero, my everything…"

Chris faltered in his sentence after that and gave Mike the time to actually realize that the older man had indeed said he. A part of him wanted to ask about the man Chris had loved once upon a time, about what exactly had happened between them, but he didn't. Mike could see the flash of pain hidden behind Chris' blue eyes and he knew that it mirrored his own. There was no need to ask.

"I asked myself what I did wrong for a very long time but in the end I realized that there was nothing that I could've done to change the situation. He simply didn't love me the way I loved him. No one of us was at fault."

"So you're defending her now?" Mike growled, not understanding how Chris could take the side of the woman who had ripped his heart out of chest and tramped on it to the point where it left him a crying, sobbing, mess of a man. He hated her right now, wanted to hate her so bably ... because not hating her meant that he still loved her, that he still cared and he couldn't let that happen. "I wasn't good enough for her, after nine fucking months she told me that I wasn't good enough and you defend the bit-"

Mike stopped dead in his tracks when a single finger was placed on his lips, stopping the insult before it left his mouth completely. Shaking his head Chris run the fingers of his other hand through Mike's hair, a tender smile spreading across his face, "Don't. Never insult the people you love, Mike. There will be a time when they're no longer there and you'll regret it more than anything… I know it's painful and you want to hurt her the way she hurt you, but don't. It's not worth it. Move on with your life … you'll find someone who loves you the exact same way you love them, I'm sure of it. I did, I moved on and found Jessica and we've been happy ever since."

Brushing a feather light kiss onto his lips that made Mike's cheeks redden in sudden embarrassment, Chris got up from the couch. The grabbed the bottle of cheap vodka and passed it to him, ignoring the bewildered look he got in return.

"Pour it out, your headache will be terrible enough in the morning. You don't need it."

The blonde man straightened his shirt and ruffled through his tussled blonde shock of hair before he made a move to return to the dance floor, where the party was still in full play.

"Chris?" he watched as the older man's head turned around enough for him to once more stare at Mike with cerulean blue eyes.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"The man … you know … what happened to him?"

A sad smile crossed the blonde's face, "He's gone."

Anyone wants to guess who 'he' is? I'm interested in your opinions.